


Keep the Light On

by Skeletorific



Category: Horrortale - Fandom, Underfell - Fandom, Undertale (Video Game), underswap
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Gen, I Cant Believe Its Still Fluff, I Wrote This For Me, M/M, Meet-Cute, Multi, Other, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, but yall can read if you want, keepertale
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-18
Updated: 2019-07-09
Packaged: 2020-03-07 12:11:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,889
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18872965
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skeletorific/pseuds/Skeletorific
Summary: Monsters have lived on the islands off the coast of your home for time out of mind. With the magic of the area making most modern navigation equipment useless, you are charged with running the lighthouse, to keep sailors from crashing into the sharp rocks below. It's a good life, if a bit lonely, and allows you to be away from the things that trouble you most. Until one day, three skeletons wash up on your shores...





	1. You Have a Feeling This Might Be Bad News

**Author's Note:**

> YOU ANIMALS, YOU FORCED MY HAND (jk I'm just self-indulgent trash). Tentatively, I'm titling this au keepertale. Here's hoping you enjoy, because I built this boat for me and damn if I'm not gonna ride in it.

Your alarm woke you up at noon.

You were still groggy with sleep. Last night, between the high winds that made the glass threaten to shatter and the unusually tempestuous currents that brought more than one ship dangerously close to the cliff’s face, you’d had none of the peace you’d come to enjoy during your nightly vigil. Your jacket from last night still hung in the corner, soaked, laying like a dead thing against the chair you deposited most of your dirty laundry on.

For a moment you lay there, quilt bundled around you, listening to the distant crash of the waves. You contemplated setting your alarm a little later this morning. Just an hour...you’d been having such nice dreams...

In the end, though, hunger won out. The growling in your stomach grew too persistent to ignore, and you rose with a sigh, combing your fingers through knotted hair as you pulled on some thick socks and shuffled into your kitchen.

The storm from last night had passed by now, but it still rained, drizzling down the sides of your window and pattering on the corrugated steel roof. You made a mental note to check on the gutters. They were used to heavy rain, but with this much wind buffeting, there was a chance they could crack. 

You filled your teapot and set it on the stove to boil, searching through your cabinets for something to eat while checking your phone. Well, one of them. It was technically your work phone, but given how the area tended to handle smartphones you tended to use it for all your communication up here. It was an old reliable flip model, utilitarian, black, and most importantly, waterproof.

You weren’t really expecting any messages. You’d just had an inspection last week, and your boss had called you about potential storm damage last night. But you had a single new text message.

From your dad.

After a long moment, you opened it.

“ _You okay? Storm was rough last night. Dad_.”

You could never get him to stop signing his texts. Or at the very least to use his actual first name.

You sent the reply back quickly. “ _Doing fine! Thanks for checking :)_ ”. After that, you turned it off.

Was he checking the news again? You hoped not. It never boded well when he sent check-in texts. If your dad had lived a few centuries earlier he would have been burned as some kind of harbinger of ill luck, because every time he took an interest in something, things got bad fast.

Not to mention the two of you hadn’t really spoken since...

Out the window, a sudden flash of red.

Your eyebrows shot up and you came over to peer through the rain-smudged glass. A passing ship maybe? But you didn’t see anything...what the hell was-

The teapot whistled, startling you out of thought.

After breakfast, you decided to take a walk on the beach. See if any kind of wreckage had turned up. The lenses could wait. Despite the ominous looking clouds overhead, there was very little mist. It was so clear you could make out the cluster of islands in the distance, surrounded by a mild haze of gold light...

 

When the position of lighthouse keeper had opened itself up, you hadn’t exactly been fighting off competitors with a stick to get the job.

The Ebott archipelago, even today, was seen as cursed. Millennia ago, humans had banished the last few remnants of monsterkind, sealed off by a barrier to keep the two from ever meeting again. The act of creating the barrier had taken the last of humanity’s magic, and since then there had never been a human mage.

No one knew just how the monsters had survived, and yet they had. Growing stranger and stranger as the years passed (or at least, according to legends). Even now, after the barrier had been broken nearly 400 years ago, they preferred to keep to their own, with only a few odd ones making their way to the main continent. 

You’d certainly never seen one before. But that didn’t mean you hadn’t heard rumors about what they looked like. Most of them you didn’t believe. I mean, goat people 10 feet tall? Living gelatin? Come on.

What was indisputable, though, was the magic that emanated from the island, permeating the area around it and soaking into the sea, the shores, even the buildings nearby. Technology, especially technology with any kind of location function, did not like the area one bit. Google Maps was in active denial the place ever existed, much to the chagrin of tourists. Planes had to go around or risk losing their navigational equipment. Even satellites registered the area as pretty much a void. 

For ships, the matter was difficult. Sonar, radar, all of them were basically useless. But the locals relied on a fishing trade to keep afloat: something about the fish around the area made them proliferate, and even tastier. Simply not sailing wasn’t an option. 

The solution was where your home came in. The Ebott Lighthouse had been around since the barriers first dissolved, unleashing the monsters magic on the area. You were the latest in a long line of keepers, charged with quite literally keeping the lights on. 

Despite all the history, the position wasn’t nearly as honorable as it would seem. Most people saw you as a bit of an odd duck for even wanting to do it in the first place, especially at your relatively young age. Most of the prior keepers had been fishermen too old to thread a line or squint through choppy waves anymore, but too young to just sit on their porch and complain all day. 

That was fine. You hadn’t become a keeper for the social aspect. You were content to be like the lighthouse you were charged with caring for. Faithful, useful, and away from everything else.

 

You drew the hood of your coat over your head to protect your ears from the cold spray of the waves. Each crash boomed now that you were so close, gliding over the sand and then skittering back just before reaching your booted feet. Like it was clearing a path for you. 

A seagull was nudging hopefully at a clump of seaweed before straightening its neck to look at you.

“Anything good?” You said. You often talked to local wildlife. Mostly to keep your voice from fading away completely. You also talked to yourself, which you were fairly sure wasn’t helping your reputation as a crazy person with the locals.

The seagull stared at you blankly. Brazenly, some might say. You realized you recognized this one from the dark spots on its wings. You’d slipped it some breadcrumbs more than once and it seemed to be expecting that again.

“Sorry, nothing today.”

It flicked its wings. Apparently in displeasure because it started meandering away, walking in circles a few times before taking off. 

“I see how it is.” You called after it. “You just want a sugar daddy.”

The bird did not respond to this. You didn’t blame it. Instead, you returned your focus to keeping a vigilant eye out for beached jellyfish.

Overall there wasn’t much debris. A couple of beer cans, probably from the local teenagers. You stuffed them into your jacket pockets to throw away later. Still, you were relieved. Obviously, you’d done your best to ensure no boat crashes with living humans onboard but it wasn’t uncommon for a few rowboats to get pulled from the marina by the currents and get dashed on the rocks. Those were always a pain to clean up. Still, it looked like-

You stopped dead, seeing something white in the distance.

You couldn’t make heads or tails of the shape. Maybe rocks? You crept closer...before stopping cold. Hands suddenly clammy under your gloves and mouth dropping open.

Three whole skeletons, splayed out on the beach.

Processing that alone was hard enough. What were three dead bodies...you walked this beach at least twice a week, there was no way someone could have been dead long enough to deteriorate into a skeleton without you noticing, much less  _ three people _ -

The longer you looked though, the less it made sense. For one thing, these skeletons were all still dressed in clothes that were relatively whole, if a bit...odd. Billowy white shirts and brown pants that were soaked and a little torn, but not at all in the state one would expect. For another, these skeletons were too...clean. No blood, no meat, barely any grime at all.

Picked clean?

You felt bile rising in your throat as you imagined the seagulls... No. 

You forced yourself to step closer-

Suddenly one of the skeletons  _ MOVED _ .

A head raised up. Blinking, impossibly, but blearily. It made eye contact with you. “....what the-”

In hindsight, you weren’t proud of how you reacted. Someone braver might have said “Are you ok” or “Who are you” Or even just “what the hell”

But, well...the beer cans were still in your pocket. And you panicked.

_ CLANG _

The skeleton flopped back to the ground, out cold.

You let out a sudden squeak of panic. Covering your mouth as you trembled. What the fuck, what the fuck, what the _ FUCK- _

“Ok. Ok.” You said. Trying to calm your pounding heart rate. “Uh...ok. Castaways? Maybe?” You’d never heard of something like that happening, but what other explanation was there. “Skeleton...castaways. Monster castaways. Ok. Uh. This is. Fine.”

You stared at them for a long moment. Hoping another of them might wake up, but also dreading it. But nothing happened. If you strained your ears you could hear them breathing faintly.

Finally, you gathered up your courage and crept closer.

The one you knocked out was the most....normal looking if that even made sense in reference to a living skeleton. He was taller than the other two, limbs sprawled out in every direction. His shirt was basically in shreds at this point. Now that you looked closer, the clothes had a peculiarly homemade look to them. 

The one right next to him, a bit shorter and a bit wider (although how that happened with skeletons you weren’t sure). He was a little more...battered looking. A few hairline cracks on his skull. Unlike the first one, he had sharp fangs instead of normal teeth, and one of them had been replaced with a gold tooth jammed in his upper jaw by some kind of orthodontist from hell. His face was screwed up in his sleep and he seemed tense.

If he was pretty bad off, though, it was nothing to the last one, so solid and huge he seemed like he shouldn’t be possible. He was shorter than the first (barely) but just....an absolute unit. A massive chunk was missing out of his skull, leaving a ragged hole. Rainwater was falling in, creating a pool in the base of his skull. His hands looked pretty bad too, cracked, with a couple of fingers missing. Even his ribs seemed...disjointed somehow, under his shirt. For a moment you worried that he might not have made it, but you could hear breathing from him too, low and ragged. He had fangs as well, that were stained in a way you found oddly unsettling.

There was no way you could carry all three of them to the lighthouse. Dragging them one at a time would take too long. The cliff path was fairly steep, and even walking it alone in the rain could be a challenge to keep a grip on the grass. Dragging someone else....even if you managed it, you’d have to go one at a time. And there was a risk that one of them would get carried off with the tides while you did that. Already it was getting dangerously close to their feet...

With a spark of inspiration, you remembered the golf cart. You could get them in the backseat and up to the lighthouse. After that...

Ok, it wasn’t a great plan but it was better than what you had now.

“I’ll be...uh, don’t-.....give me a sec,” You said lamely to the unconscious skeletons, running as fast as your feet would carry you back to the lighthouse.

Like you said, a text from your dad was never a good omen.


	2. You Have a Feeling You Might Be Doing This Wrong

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which you are woefully unprepared to deal with concussed skeletons

The golf cart was a better solution, but that didn’t necessarily make it a good one.

By the time you’d managed to navigate it down the steep path to the beach, the tides were sweeping up to the knees of the skeletons. Then there was the issue of getting them in and making sure they stayed in. For a brief, wild moment you considered just stacking them and hoping for the best, but figured that might be....weird, if one of them woke up. But the cart didn’t have seatbelts, which meant you couldn’t sit them up. They’d slide out.

After a bit of experimenting, you decided to lay the big one on the floor and just kinda...wedge the other two’s legs behind them, hoping their combined weight would keep them tucked in. 

And hoo boy, was that combined weight a force to be reckoned with. One would think that a skeleton couldn’t possibly weigh that much, but inexplicably (or possibly by some magic), they weighed about the same as a human of their size would. You had to drag the big one inches at a time and you were sweating profusely by the time you got them into place. The tall one was basically a limp noodle, and the one with gold fang drooled a dark spot on your jacket as you struggled to arrange their limbs.

In the end, though, you finally got them all tucked into the cart and up the hill, starting to drag them all in. You thanked whatever gods were listening that the main rooms you lived in were on the ground floor. If you’d had to drag them upstairs....but the second floor was still mostly unfinished, and you certainly couldn’t keep them in the lantern room.

Getting them inside at least got you all out of the cold. You only had one bed, a queen, but for now, it was better than nothing. You dumped the tall one on the couch (he mumbled a bit but didn’t stir) and got the other two onto the bed. The springs protested the weight, but it would have to do for now.

“Alright.” You panted, pulling off your coat with a sigh of relief. “Home sweet home.”

In all of this, they’d barely stirred, which seriously worried you. Were they concussed or something? How would you even tell? And those cracks on the shorter ones...were they from whatever wreck they had been in? You had to assume so. If that was the case, they might need medical attention, but you wouldn’t even know how to go about securing that. The local doctors certainly wouldn’t know what to do with this, and you couldn’t exactly check WebMD. You didn’t even know if there were any reliable sources for monster anatomy on the human internet...

“Alright. Uh. Ok.” You said, chewing your lip nervously. “I guess.....try to wake you up? First? Wait that might...be a bad idea.”

You tried to think through if there was any procedure for this kind of thing. You vaguely remembered a section in your manual about how to deal with shipwreck victims. That advice might be for humans, but it was better than nothing. You got the weatherbeaten pamphlet out from your nightstand.

“Ok, uh...first thing, loosen tight clothes,” you muttered to yourself. “Circulation...” You looked over them. Their clothes (what little they had left) were pretty flowy. 

“...do you guys even circulate”

The big one breathed in a way that might have been a snore.

“Alright, next...fluids.” So far as you knew, Gatorade was supposed to be good for this kind of thing. Electrolytes and all of that. You kept a case on hand for emergencies anyways. Quickly, you got a bottle and approached the tall one. Out of the corner of your eye, you glanced at the pamphlet, which showed an illustration of a person’s head tilted back, nose pinched as water was poured in to force them to swallow.

You looked warily at the skeleton’s nasal cavity.

In the end, you just kinda covered it with your hands and pried his teeth apart, before pouring it in.

What little of the drink that actually made it into his mouth just dribbled out the bottom of his jaw, staining the afghan you’d tucked around him and turning his white shirt purple. You cursed and pulled the bottle back hastily. 

“Should’ve seen that coming.” You muttered, wracking your brain. Monster or no, all sentient things needed to eat somehow. And they all had to be exhausted after being tossed around in those waves, not to mention dehydrated.

You eyed a watering can in the corner of your room...

No, better not.

You googled monster food. After scrolling passed a lot of monster cookie recipes and pictures of cupcakes decorated with fangs and bug-eyes, you finally stumbled on an article titled “Magical Meals: The Digestive Processes of Monsters”. Seemed promising.

The website was a black background with white text. Oddly ominous.

_ Unlike humans, who need to break down their food in order to extract its nutrients, monsters consume food that is magically infused. It reacts with the internal magic of the eater, dissolving as soon as it is swallowed, and traveling immediately into the magical circulation system. The one exception is simple freshwater, which monsters and humans alike drink (though monsters may require a much smaller quantity, depending on their type). _

Well, that made future meals tricky, but for now...You tried the cover and pour method again, this time with a glass of water. Sure enough, it didn’t fall through. It was like it had vanished the second it hit the mouth. You couldn’t exactly tell, but it seemed like the skeleton relaxed a bit.

You sighed with relief and bookmarked the site just in case before giving the other two the same treatment. The one with the gold tooth nearly bit you when you tried to pry his mouth open, but you managed to escape unscathed.

Alright. Watered, such as it were. 

The big one shuddered a bit.

“Oh....shit!” you said, setting the glass down. “Clothes...right, uh....”

Getting them out of their wet clothes was probably important, but the idea of just stripping three strangers down naked was less than ideal.

It's fine. It's fine. They’re skeletons. It's fine.

Your face was so red it was practically its own heat source as you stripped off their shirts first.

All of them had scars on their ribcage. Goldtooth had fractures similar to the ones on his skull. Cracked Skull looked like a piece of pottery that had been smashed and glued back together. Some ribs were even partially gone. And the tall one (in your head you couldn’t help but call him Beer Can) had one long diagonal slash, from shoulder to waist. None of them were bleeding....or, well, marrowing. So you decided to leave them alone. Now for the pants...

You gritted your teeth and started to tug them off. Half squinting in some vain attempt to preserve modesty. However, you realized with a sigh of relief that there was nothing...anatomical down there. Just sacrums like you’d see on any classroom skeleton. Maybe this would be weirder for them if they were conscious but at least you didn’t have to feel like you were at the beginning of a really weird adult film.

You tried to look around for something for them to wear. Goldtooth and Beer Can (gods you needed them to wake up so you could actually learn their names) were relatively easy. You had some basketball shorts and some oversize pajama shirts that fit them easily enough. A little snug on Goldtooth, but it would do. But Cracked Skull....there was simply nothing in your closet that would work. The biggest shirt you had could barely make it around his shoulders, much less all the way down. The only thing that even partly covered him was a dark red bathrobe left by your predecessor. Even that still drew tight around the chest, exposing enough ribs to make him look like some bizarre undead pervert in an eighties movie. Had to be better than waking up naked in a stranger’s house though, right?

....Fuck it. The thrift store wasn’t far.

You grabbed your keys and wallet, checking the time. Fuck, it was almost dinner...You glanced warily outside. The rain had stopped, which meant it would likely be a clear night. You should be fine.

Quickly, you scrawled out a note in case they woke up. “Make yourselves at home! Back soon!” After a bit of thought, you added a P.S. “Sorry about knocking you out”.

With any luck, they wouldn’t need it. After speeding as much as you thought you could get away with you practically sprinted into the thrift store, hurriedly looking for anything that could fit. 

You didn’t have exact sizes, but you just picked out the largest white t-shirt you could find and dug up some black sweats with an elastic waistband, hoping that would do. You hesitated in front of a clearance rack. It was going to be cold....at least getting them sweaters seemed like the courteous thing to do.

Whatever courteous meant in this situation.

You had to move quickly, grabbing whatever seemed like it would fit. A hideously orange pullover hoodie that would do for Beer Can. A black zip up with an absurdly fluffy hood for Gold Tooth (the zipper caught your eye, gold spikes that matched. Why not). Cracked Skull was again a size problem. In the end, the best you could do was a dark blue jacket that had clearly seen better days. It was patched in different shades of blue, but at least it looked warm.

“Shopping for someone?” The cashier said, which surprised you. Normally she wasn’t very chatty.

“U-uh....nope!” You said.  _ Why am I lying?! _ “Just gets...cold in the tower. Thought some clothes to layer could be useful.”

“Might wanna wash the blue one before you wear it.” She said. “Based on the smell the guy who used to own it smoked.”

“Sure,” You said, shoving your total towards her, anxious to get out. “Don’t want that. The smell. I mean. I want the jacket but- Uh, keep the change. Thanks!”

Before you could dig yourself any deeper into the hole you scurried out of the store and back into the truck.

What mirror had you broken today?

You noticed as you pulled into your driveway that the lights were on, and you frowned. You were sure you turned them off....maybe they were up. You grabbed the bags and headed for the front door. Debated on knocking. Giving them some warning might be nice, but on the other hand, they might think you were some guest and not let you in. In the end, you just gave a single rap of warning and then unlocked the door. 

“Um, hello?” You said as you cautiously swung the door open. “Its-”

Something caught you by the throat and you were suddenly being hoisted by the air. The bags slipped out of your hands and you scrabbled at your throat, trying to pull whatever it was off, but whatever was constricting your airways, it wasn’t material in nature. You could breathe, but just barely, a vice-like grip tightening painfully on your throat. You kicked uselessly, trying to get loose...Before a massive shadow loomed over your face.

Cracked Skull. He was up. Still in the bathrobe, which was so short it was like some parody of a minidress. It would’ve been funny if it weren’t for the look on his face.

Somehow, he looked even more intimidating awake. The eyesocket nearest the hole in his head was a pitch black void, while the other was filled with a pulsing light, blood red and menacing. He had one hand up, pantomiming the magical one around your throat, his face twisted in an expression so furious it left your mouth completely dry.

“I’m gonna give you to the count of three to answer my question, and if I don’t like what you have to say, then you’re gonna wish you left me in that ocean.” He said. “Where. The Fuck. Am I.


	3. You Get Some Unlikely Assistants

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Like I said, the "chapter every day" schedule was always gonna be untenable. But there's a lot of juice left in this, so I hope to make this pretty consistent.

You dangled for a second, trying to come up with a coherent answer. Cracked Skull glowered and lifted you higher.

“ _ Answer _ .”

“F-found-.....” You took a deep breath, calming yourself. You realized that your capacity for a deep breath at all took some of the edge off. It didn’t seem like he actually wanted to hurt you, but there was a look in his eye like a cornered animal. You had to talk fast. “Found you....beach...”

“Where the  _ fuck _ are my clothes-”

“Alright, that’s enough of that.” Another voice, a bit more nasal in tone but still low and mellow. There was a snap, and suddenly you were zooming through the air, narrowly avoiding a collision with Cracked Skull before planting face first into a ribcage. You took a grateful gulp of air and two arms steadied you. “Easy, easy...”

You looked up...and Beercan was looking down at you. Looking torn between amusement and mild concern. 

An embarrassed flush covered your face as you realized how close you were to him. He seemed to register this, smirking a little bit. 

Or maybe that was just your imagination.

“I’m P-...Stretch.” He said, grimacing a bit. Carefully, he set you down, making sure you were steady on your feet. You pulled away a little too quickly, completely flustered, but he didn’t comment on it. “I see you’ve met Axe.”

Cracked Skull growled under his breath. His eye was still fixed on you like he was expecting you to lash out at any second. 

“And back there-”

He was cut off by a low groan, followed by a rough voice shouting “What the FU-”

“That’d be Red”

Gold fang emerged from the back room, looking bleary and bewildered. Like Axe, he had red tinted eyelights, but smaller, and two of them. He looked from Stretch, to you, to Axe, and back at you, like he was expecting someone to explain. Or maybe just shout “April Fools”.

“You got a name?” Stretch continued, as though he’d never been interrupted.

“I-I....uh...” You found yourself tongue-tied. Having three skeletons asleep in your home had been odd. Having them up and about, walking, talking, and using magic was downright bizarre.

“Forget this.” Axe snarled. “I want answers, now.”

Stretch’s expression didn’t change. But there was an odd charge to the air all of a sudden, and Axe didn’t move from his spot. “Give them a sec. They seem just as disoriented as us.”

“Hate to say it, but I’m with the creep,” Red muttered, eyeing you up and down. Not as hostile as Axe, but watchful. “Last thing I remember is fallin in the fuckin ocean....”

“I...” You found your tongue again, clearing your throat. “I-I found you on the beach. It looked like you had shipwrecked, and I...I brought you back here.”

“Why.” Ax bit out. 

“....what do you mean why?”

He sighed. “Look, if you weren’t the reason we ended up here.” He seemed skeptical of this. “Then why did you help. This a hostage situation, or are you just some kind of-”

“I couldn’t exactly leave you there.” You blurted out. “I....its kind of my job to keep an eye on these shores. And I felt like I kind of owed it to you after....” You couldn’t help but glance at Stretch out of the corner of your eye. One of his brow ridges quirked upwards and he reached up to touch the spot on his skull where you’d hit him. You could’ve sworn a ghost of a grin flitted across his face.

“Your job?” Red cut in.

“I’m...the keeper. I’m supposed to watch these shores.” You said. 

“So what part of your job involves stripping us down.”

You felt a buzz of annoyance and before you could stop yourself you turned on Axe. “Look, it wasn’t like I had a lot of options, ok? The best I could think to do was get your wet clothes off and try to replace them.” You pointed a finger at the dropped bag. “I’m not some kind of creep, ok? So just....knock it off, ok?”

The end of the sentence died in your throat and you wanted to cringe from how eighth grade it sounded.  _ I’m sensitive, Audrey! _ But Axe didn’t seem to have a retort. He examined you carefully like he was sizing something up. Instinctively, you refused to blink, or even back off a bit. 

Whatever he saw must have satisfied him. He grunted and turned to grab the bag. Crouching, he examined the t-shirt and huffed a bit. Apparently in approval. He dropped the robe, and you looked away in a hurry. Red noticed, and snickered.

“‘M changin” He stalked past you to the bathroom and closed the door.

“Well, first things first” Stretch rolled his shoulders. “Can’t solve riddles on an empty stomach.”

 

\----

You didn’t exactly have magical food on the premises, but Stretch assured you he could include it himself. In what seemed like seconds your kitchen was filled with the sounds and smells of food. Stretch posted himself by the stove and muttered to himself as he cooked, apparently focused on his task. Red seemed to have determined you were trustworthy (or maybe he just thought he could take you in a fight) and contented himself with examining the jacket you’d brought him. He seemed taken with it, toying with the jagged edges of the zipper.

You tried to help, feeling awkward and mildly useless, but Stretch seemed to have it in control, and in the end, you just sat at the table with Red. 

“So....how’d you end up in the ocean anyway?” you said, trying to make conversation.

“Beats me,” Red said, shrugging as he looked idly around the kitchen. He stuffed his hands in his pockets, apparently to give them something to do. “Last thing I remember I was shortcuttin’”

“Short...?”

“Teleportin. Whatever.”

Stretch frowned as he brought the food back. “Wait...me too.”

“Well, that throws somethin into clarity,” Axe said, emerging from the bathroom. The clothes seemed to fit at least. He tossed the robe on the couch and rummaged around in the pockets of the jacket, frowning a bit.

He caught you staring out of the corner of his eye. “Need something, tidbit?”

“U-uh...what do you mean, clarity?” You stammered out, feeling your face growing redder. 

“I was teleportin too.” He pulled a pack of cigarettes out of the pocket, snorted, and tossed them to Stretch, who caught it with ease. “Which means it has something to do with resonance.”

“Reso-”

There was a buzz from your pocket, and you frowned, checking your phone. 

An alarm was going off and your eyes widened in panic.

“SHIT-” you bolted past Red and Stretch, taking the stairs two at a time. A second later, you heard footsteps behind you, but you were made a beeline for the top of the tower, rushing around in every direction. Shitshitshitshitshit-

“Whoa, kid, where’s the fire?” Stretch said, his head poking out first.

“I’ve been so busy all day I-....” You could barely talk, you were frantically cycling between tasks, accomplishing nothing but stressing you out very much. The oil was low, the windows were filthy, and you didn’t even want to  _ think _ about the state of the generator after that storm. “Nothing’s prepared-”

“Slow down, doll,” Red said, looking bewildered. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m the keeper! I’ve got to get this light going and keep it going, but nothing’s ready to go.” You could feel your heart pounding in your chest at the thought of your undone task list. You’d been careless, and now-

“Can you call-”

“Call what, the sun?!” You were frustrated and taking it out on them, which wasn’t fair, but after the day you’d had you hardly cared. “I can’t just dictate the shipping schedules on a whim, the people down there  _ trust me _ to keep them safe, and I....I....” 

You felt a lump rise in your throat and forced yourself to swallow it down. Shut up, shut up, don’t cry, not now. 

But it bothered you. It really did. Sure, to the town at large, maybe you were a weirdo, but you were a weirdo with a function. If you couldn’t even do your job...

Red examined your face for a long moment. “....tell us what to do then?”

“What?” You said.

“What?” Axe said, apparently also taken by surprise. Red shot him a look before turning back to you.

“You gotta job to do. And so far as I figure, we owe you for the rescue. So.” He shrugged. “Tell us what you need.”

“Its... it's pretty technical stuff, I don’t know if-”

“Try us” There was an odd glimmer to his eye. Like he had a piece of good news he was just waiting to talk about.

“.....” Fuck it. You had nothing to lose. Well, hopefully, nothing. “the generator. It’s old, and pretty waterlogged after last night. I’d need someone to keep it going.”

“Axe?”

The larger skeleton didn’t look happy, but he grunted affirmatively. “I’m on it.”

“It’s in the basement. Tools are on the table-” Suddenly he blipped out of existence, startling you.

Stretch saw the surprise on your face and grinned. “Shortcut. What else?”

“Um...oil. And cleaning supplies. The glass can’t be water-streaked, and I need to be sure I have enough oil on hand to keep the light lit.

Stretch nodded and headed back downstairs.

“Anythin else?” Red said.

“Uh...the radio.” Your voice was oddly fragile. Like you couldn’t believe this was happening. Which you couldn’t. You were so used to doing all of this yourself...what were the odds that all of these guys were equipped to help you out? Were they overestimating their abilities....or was it fate? Your thumb jerked towards a small panel on the far end of the room, with a sonar and headphones hooked in. “Most communication devices out here fizzle out once they get too close to the island. So one of my predecessors got the idea to jerry-rig a magical solution. It's finicky, but it works. It helps me keep in contact with passing ships in case of an emergency. Uh...it can be tricky to operate if-”

“Magic and mechanics?” He chuckled, moving with truly unfathomable confidence towards the panel. “Must be my birthday.”

You were about to explain how to operate it when his phalanges traced over a couple of buttons and hit them in quick succession, starting it up.

“....how did you.”

“I’m an engineer, kit.” He said, taking a seat and pulling the headphones on. “So’s Axe. Picked the best two castaways for the job.”

“What about me?” Stretch said as he re-emerged holding a bucket full of oil, some glass cleaner, and a roll full of paper towels. He had also pulled on the orange hoodie, which fit nicely.  

Not that you were noticing the fit. Of course not-

Red snorted as he turned back to the panel. “Right.  _ Botanist _ . Super helpful.”

Stretch squirted the back of his skull with glass cleaner. “I’m gonna remember that. Besides.’ He looked back at you with a grin. “I clean a mean window, whether or not it’s in my degree.”

“You’re all scientists?” You moved quickly to pick up the oil and carefully get it into the lantern. “What are the odds of that?”

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Red and Stretch exchange a look. Then Stretch pulled off some paper towels, crouching to start cleaning water spots off the lenses. “We can swap job stories later. After we help you out.”

“How long till sunset?” Red said, adjusting a dial with a frown of concentration.

You checked your phone, glancing at the rapidly darkening sky. “Maybe twenty minutes. We should be fine, as long as Axe-”

There was a whirring noise, and the mechanism that operated the mirrors began to hum.

You exchanged a look with Stretch, who grinned. “Let’s get these mirrors clean then, before we’re totally  _ boned _ .”

The pun came out of nowhere, but it made Red crack up. You bit back a smile and shook your head, turning back to your work. 

You wouldn’t allow yourself to get cocky, but there was a wash of relief that let you at least feel optimistic about the coming hours.

This....this could work.

Probably. 


	4. *You Learn Way Too Much, and Yet Too Little

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time for some W O R L D B U I L D I N G

“How the fuck do you do this by yerself every night?” Red muttered.

Hours had passed. The night was going smoothly. Axe kept the generator running, and based on the smells wafting up from downstairs, he was also helping himself to your fridge stock. Not that he was the only one: Stretch had gone back and forth more than a few times when you didn’t have him helping you operate the chariot wheel mechanism that turned the mirrors. Red was slumped in his chair, one ear of the headphones pressed to the side of his skull just in case, while his other hand fiddled with the edge of his shorts. If the crews noticed a different voice on the radio, they didn’t mention it. 

You were still deciding if that was a bad thing or not. 

“Well,” You said, staring out at the sea. It was clearer skies tonight than it had been a while. “Normally the generator’s operational. Last night a window busted open and there was so much rain...I got it covered but the power had already gone down by the time I’d noticed. I was planning to fix it today, but...” The ‘but’ hung in the air.

_ But I wasn’t exactly planning on houseguests _ .

“Still, with the radio and the light, plus everything in the house...” Stretch said, smoothly pulling out of the unfinished sentence. “Must be a lot to deal with.”

You shrugged. “It’s not so bad. Winter especially is a slow season. In the summer it picks up a bit, but usually the weather is nice enough that I can just keep one eye on the radio and run  the mechanism at the same time.”

“How come there’s two bedrooms.” Axe’s voice, abrupt and rough, startled you. Your head whipped around to see him in the stairway, munching on a bagel. Stretch cocked a brow and he shrugged. “Its runnin fine. Got bored. There’s a room in the basement with an empty bedframe.”

....well that would have been useful to remember earlier. “Uh, it’s not uncommon for the keeper to have family that moves in here, or even just a partner. That’s...that’s who the room is for.”

“But you ain’t got one of those?” Red said.

“...nope. Just me.”

“How come?”

“Uh....” You straightened up a bit. “So how did you guys even end up in the ocean?” 

Awful, really, really obvious deflection, but it apparently worked, as all three of them suddenly looked very uncomfortable. You could feel silent glances exchanging behind your back, and somehow you knew they were deciding just how much they wanted to tell you. Normally, you wouldn’t want to push, but leave them alone any longer and they might end up circling back to your lack of partner. You forced yourself to plow ahead. 

“You mentioned something about resonance?”

“....we all...worked together,” Stretch said. He seemed to be measuring his words carefully. He turned to look at you, expression apparently light, but holding eye contact to a slightly aggressive extent. “How much do you know about the archipelago?”

You shrugged. “Pretty much what everyone here knows. Home of the monsters. Lot of magic. Doesn’t like technology.”

“Right. Well, the thing about the magic...”

“It was cooped up too long,” Red said. “Started soakin into the ground, the air, everything. Magic ain’t meant to be sealed off. It starts to act out. ‘Specially if it’s being handled by the same things every day.”

“Act out how?” You said, frowning as you rotated the light back.

“...there was only one island at first.”

“....what?” You looked at him. “What are you talking about, it’s an archipelago.”

“Yeah. Now. But at first, it was just one island. Hell, that’s  _ all _ we thought it was for centuries, till the barriers came down.”

“ _ Barriers _ ?” You said, utterly bewildered. “Like....plural barriers?”

He nodded, which didn’t do anything to clarify. It was like being told there were actually 10 continents. It didn’t make sense. Everyone called it the Archipelago, all the history books, everything. “...I don’t...how-”

“Resonance,” Axe said. He leaned against the wall of the stairwell. His eye was fixed on you, but his expression was distant, like he was looking at something a million miles away. “Magic’s...an inherently creative process. An interactive one. And it got bored with the same thing, day in and day out. So, it decided to create more.”

“....it created whole  _ islands _ ?!”

“Not just islands.” Stretch and Red both winced, like it was something he wasn’t supposed to say, but Axe either didn’t notice or didn’t care. “People. It had a template: the base island. And after that, it made a hundred variations on the theme. Twisting it around every which way until we only barely recognized each other.”

Your head was reeling. “I...I don’t understand.”

Axe sighed. “Red, get over here.”

“But-”

“Go on,” Stretch said, moving to take over the radio from him. He looked resigned. “It’s easier to understand when you see it.”

Red sighed and got up, stomping over to Axe with a sour expression. He stood next to him (not too close, you noticed) and turned to face you. Hands stuffed in his pockets.

“See any resemblance?”

The first thought was that they were skeletons, of course they looked similar. Then again, that might be rude.

On first glance, they didn’t have much in common. Red was rough looking, but Axe had a brutal face, made worse by the hole in his head. They were completely different sizes. But...something about the general structure was the same. Especially when you contrasted it against Stretch. Both had faces on the rounder side. Both had similar body types, and now that they were both looking at you, similar facial expressions. They could be brothers....or...

“My name isn’t  _ Axe _ .” He said, mouthing the name with distaste. “It's Sans. And so is his.”

 

\-----

The night only got more confusing from there.

Red and Axe were Sanses, while Stretch was actually Papyrus. And Red and Axe both had brothers who were named Papyrus, but not Stretch Papyrus, and Stretch had a brother named Sans, but not Red Sans or Axe Sans-

“Yeah, you’re starting to get a glimpse of why we came up with nicknames,” Stretch said, after your third time making Red repeat it.

“So none of you are called your names?”

“The originals are” Axe muttered. “The rest of us have to just go by whatever lameass nickname the other pick up on.”

“None of you are the originals? You’re copies?”

It took a minute for them to get together a coherent enough explanation about how they weren’t clones, but neither were they wholly different beings from the originals. Easily the slowest part of this conversation was trying to extricate them from dense and confusing terminology. Not to mention they kept interrupting each other with “you’re fuckin makin it more confusin, what it  _ actually  _ is is-”

Eventually, though, you got a sense of where their timelines diverged. Red came from a timeline where the monsters constantly struggled for dominance over each other. He said ‘kill or be killed’ with a certain weighty significance, and you had to wonder if that was another timeline thing. Regardless, things seemed to have calmed down near the point the barrier came down.

Axe point-blank refused any timeline questions directed at him, particularly infuriating given that he’d started this whole train of conversation. 

“Does it have something to do with the hole in-”

He vanished.

Stretch sighed. “Honestly, I’d leave that one alone. You don’t want to know.”

“....” You stared at the spot where he’d been, before finally prying your eyes back to Stretch. “What about you?”

“Near as we can figure, I’m a swap.” He stretched, leaning back and hooking his arms behind his head. Somehow he’d gotten a cigarette out without you noticing, not lit, but dangling between his teeth. “My island’s functionally identical to the default, just with a few personalities rearranged. I behave a lot like the original Sans, while my brother behaves like the original Papyrus.”

“You keep saying ‘we’.” You said. “Have you three been working this out on your own? Or-”

You heard a clicking sound behind you and turned to see Red shutting down the radio. “Uh...whatcha doin?”

“It's sunrise,” He said.

You whipped your head around and realized he was right. You’d barely noticed but the sky was pale blue with early morning light. The usual mist had settled over the water, but it was clear enough that any ships would be able to make their way through on their own. You suddenly realized how exhausted you were: it’d been a full day, with more than the usual amount of running around. Not to mention a death threat or two.

Stretch yawned, stretching (heh) his arms above his head and scratching the back of his skull. “Need to do anything to shut things down?”

You shook your head, fighting back a yawn of your own as you turned the oil shut off valve, watching the flame dim and then flicker out entirely. This was always your favorite part, a nice way to put a touchstone on the night as the daylight filtered through the windows. “There’s upkeep, but I do that in the mo-....well. Technically in the afternoon. When I wake up.”

“Speakin ‘a wakin up,” Red said, as you and Stretch followed him down the steep tower stairs. “What's the sleepin arrangements look like?”

....you hadn’t thought of that. You couldn’t exactly have Red and Axe in your bed again.

A problem Axe seemed to have thought of. When you got down to the kitchen he was dragging in a dusty mattress that smelled somewhat like mildew from outside.

“Shed” was all he said by way of explanation. He was muttering curses as he tried to get it into the stairwell to your basement. On instinct, you moved to help him, which made him still.

“.....whatcha doin.”

“Uh....helping?” 

“I got it.” He said, seeming annoyed. There was an odd blue glow, coming from his side of the mattress. With little ceremony, he yanked it out of your grip and descended. You could hear the mattress going  _ thunk-thunk-thunk _ on the way down.

You sighed, resisting the urge to roll your eyes before turning back to the other two. “So...”

“Dibs on the couch” Stretch said quickly, collapsing face first onto it. 

“Oh, I...” You looked over at Red, who snorted and rolled his eyes.

“‘S fine. You got any sleeping bags?”

“In the shed,” You said, slipping on some tennis shoes and leading him out. The dew soaked through to your socks as you led him out to a weatherbeaten outbuilding. “Are you sure you don’t want to take my bed? Because I don’t mind taking the floor for a night.”

“It's your house. Ain’t lookin to owe ya any more favors.” His tone was joking, but you couldn’t help but wonder if there was something behind it.

You opened the door and flicked on the light. The shed was a cornucopia of accrued supplies, odds, and dare you say, ends. Some of it was your own addition, but the rest was a hodgepodge from your predecessors and some official government stock for emergencies. Even you didn’t know everything in here. You squinted through tired eyes, hunting for a sleeping bag between endless boxes. “I’ll try and find a cot or something tomorrow, I promise.”

“Between you and me, I actually don’t mind the floor,” Red said, toeing aside a crate with his converse as he peered to the back of the shelf. “Can’t sleep well on anythin too soft.”

“That’s fair.” Your eyes lit on the top shelf and you dragged the ladder over to climb up and get the dark grey bedroll.

“Besides, don’t know how long we’ll be here. Hopefully, we’ll be out of your hair before too long.”

“Well, I don’t know-” You tried for a smile as you strained to reach for it. Your fingers were inches away....you leaned forward. “Was kinda nice havin assistants”

Success! Your fingers closed on the ties holding the sleeping bag in a tight roll and yanked it off the shelf triumphantly. 

A little  _ too  _ triumphantly. The ladder teetered dangerously from side to side, and might have actually toppled if a pair of arms hadn’t wrapped around your legs and lifted you off before it fell completely. You yelped as you were pulled away and the ladder fell with a crash that made you wince.

“Yeah, have the feelin you need a little help now and then,” Red said from behind you, voice filled with amusement. With barely a grunt of effort, he turned you in his grip to face him before setting you down on the ground. Arms unwinding from your legs.

You realized with a start of embarrassment that his face had been inches from your ass and prayed with all your might that your face hadn’t gone red as you tried to shove that thought back down the pit it had emerged from.“Uh....thanks.”

“Don’t mention it.” He straightened up to his full height, still near enough that you were getting a more up close and personal view of his fangs than you had ever asked for. When he talked you could see a hint of a dim red glow....did they have tongues? You were pretty sure they hadn’t had tongues earlier. Suddenly, you realized that while you were staring at his mouth, he was looking at you with a peculiar glint in his eyes.

Then again, since when were you an expert in monster facial expressions.

“...so, scale of one to ten, how much does Axe hate me?” You said, trying not to stammer as you pulled away and bent to pick up the ladder.

“Nine. But that’s not so bad. Most people are at a ten with him.” He said, picking up the sleeping bag from the ground where you’d dropped it. He frowned a bit and brushed some dust off it.

“I feel like that mattress incident a minute ago might’ve bumped me up to a ten.” You held open the door for him. Suddenly very eager to get out of this confined, warm space with him.

“Eh, don’t take that too personally,” Red said, turning off the lights as he passed and heading toward the house, you speeding up to walk alongside him. “He doesn’t accept help easily. Neither do I, to be honest.”

“You don’t seem to mind my help.”

“The exception is tiny humans who save me from drowning.” He said, grinning.

You smiled tiredly as you got back inside the house. “I can’t tell if that’s an attempt at thanks, flirtation, or mockery.”

“Could be all three, doll. I’m versatile. Anyways, he’s a creep, so feel free to hate his guts.....metaphorically speakin. But he’s not gonna do anything weird. And it’s not your fault.” 

There it was again.  _ Doll _ . You were about to respond when you were cut off by a snore from the living room. Stretch had found the spare blankets you kept in the linen closet and was already passed out under at least three of them.

“Think that’s my cue to hit the hay,” You said, rubbing your eyes. “Uh, if you get hungry, help yourself to the kitchen. The bathroom’s down the hall.” Did they even-...nope, you had enough on your mind without worrying about skeletal digestive functions. “I’m probably gonna crash till one or two, but if someone comes by a little earlier or if you need to ask me something, just go ahead and wake me up. I fall back asleep easily.”

He nodded. “Get some sleep, kid. You look half dead.”

“Bold words from a skeleton.”

Red grinned and gestured down at himself. “You keep workin yourself to the  _ bone _ , this could be you too.”

You snorted reluctantly and shuffled toward your bedroom. “G’night, Red.”

“Night”

You had a lot on your mind, but at this point, none of it was connecting in any coherent manner. You kicked off your clothes and yanked on some sweats and a t-shirt, crawling into bed with the full intention of mulling over what you should do with them tomorrow.

Instead, you slipped into unconsciousness as soon as your head hit the pillow.


	5. You Get Breakfast and Find a Chink in Some Bony Armor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I've been mad busy with work which is part of why this took so long. Not so much plot stuff (since we got a lot of that last chapter) but more character stuff. Also Stretch cooking. That's important to me.

The first thing you realize is that your legs don’t ache.

Your legs  _ always _ ache when you wake up. Constant up and down stair trips are a facet of the job, and while you’ve mostly grown accustomed to it, your calves will still kick up a bit of a fuss once they’ve had enough time to contemplate what they just went through.

However, as you’re woken up by the buzzing alarm on your phone, you feel nothing but well rested. Maybe a little bleary around the eyes, but nothing compared to the usual grogginess that lingers for a solid hour after you wake up.

The second thing you notice is loud snoring.

Your head snaps up and you realize your door has swung open. Laying across your threshold is Red, still bound up in his sleeping bag and out cold on your floor. There’s a dark spot by his open mouth where you suspect he’s been drooling, and your alarm doesn’t seem to be bothering him one bit.

How the hell did he even...Still, you should let him sleep. You turn off your alarm and quietly pad around your room, pulling on a hoodie and some thick socks to guard against the chill. Outside you can see frost forming at the edges of your window. October is unusually cold this year.

You cautiously step over Red (he mumbles something that sounds like ‘mustahd’ but you’re sure you misheard) and make your way to the kitchen, stomach growling.

As you approach you’re hit by a wave of good smells. Stretch is in the kitchen, stirring together some eggs in your frying pan, humming to himself. There’s bacon on the stove top and something in the oven that smells like fresh bread. You’re doing your level best not to swoon right then. It’d been so long since you’d had a proper cooked meal that you didn’t have to make yourself...

He seems at home in the kitchen. He’d taken off his hoodie and tied it around his waist, and moved around the space like he had a pretty good idea already where everything was. His feet clacked against the linoleum as he walked, and as you entered the kitchen you could hear him humming, a little offkey.

You rubbed your eyes as you walked into the kitchen, yawning to signal your arrival. “Morning...”

He turned a bit as he continued to whisk, a slight grin on his face. “Heya”

“Uh...Red’s kinda...”

“He was like that when I woke up,” He shrugged, turning back to his eggs. “He’s a thrasher. Probably rolled into your door and just kept goin”

You nodded faintly. “I’ll let him sleep then. Where’s Axe?” Not that you were eager to get more resentful looks, but you had the sense that it was probably best to know where he was at all times.

He glanced pointedly out the window, toward the cliffside. “Figuring out how to get us home.”

“...what do you mean?”

“I mean boats don’t exactly like goin there, and none of us have ever tried porting that far all at once.” The oven dinged, and he started digging around for a hot pad.

You handed one to him from the drawer. “You seem....oddly at peace with that.”

He shrugged. “We’ll get there when we get there.” He pulled a tray full of rolls. “Hey, do me a favor, give the eggs a last stir and then turn off the stove.”

You raise an eyebrow and do so, noticing peppers and onions sprinkled into the egg mix. It looks delectable, despite the toll it must have taken on your grocery supply.

 “Hope you’re hungry,” Stretch says, taking a stack of plates from the cabinet

“Uh...thanks for this,” You say, switching the stove off and getting out some silverware. “but can you guys even eat this? I read online-”

He snapped his fingers and a spark of orange shot up from between them. “I infused the magic already. Normally it's not great for humans, but, with you living here as long as you have, I think you’ve built up a fairly decent tolerance.” He got the rolls on a plate and proffered it to you.

Well, when he said it like that you weren’t so sure. You took a tentative bite of a roll. Hot, but not immediately life-threatening at least. With a quiet “thank you” you dished up and headed to the table.

It was  _ good _ . Like, holy shit, good. You had to stop yourself from scarfing it down like a starved dog, trying to remember there were three other people in the house who needed to eat. Still, your fork went from plate to mouth so quick you barely had time to speak.

This seemed to please Stretch, who gave a crooked half smile as he got his own plate and sat down across from you. He didn’t eat immediately, instead staring at your back door with mild interest.

“Uh...” You paused long enough to glance back. “What’s-”  
“I’m counting.” 

“Counting wha-”

The door slammed open, making you jump, and Axe stalked towards the counter.

“Six seconds on the dot. Never fails.” Stretch said, turning to his own food and starting to eat.

“....Morning,” you said after a minute, turning to Axe. He didn’t do much more than grunt in acknowledgment, moving through the spread like a man possessed, piling his plate high with food. He was eating all the way to the table and continued to do so as he sat down. You gave Stretch a questioning look, but he seemed to find this perfectly normal behavior. In the end, you decided to roll with it, interrogating other peoples’ eating habits being a level of indignity you were not willing to stoop to. You finished your food and went to the sink to rinse off your plate.

_ Thunk _ -

“SHIT-”

Axe scarcely looked up, but he snorted. Red emerged a moment later, rubbing his skull with a scowl. His expression mollified a bit when he caught sight of the food, and he dished up. You were about to say good morning when you felt the half-washed dish being tugged out of your hands.

You turned to see Stretch, holding his own dish and nudging you out of the way of the sink with his hip. “I got it.”

“What? No way, you cooked.” You nudge him back, reasserting your place. For a moment its a silent...nudge off? Nudge war? Both of these sound bad, before Stretch takes advantage of his magic and lifts you away from the sink, planting himself firmly in front of it. “You got stuff to do for work, right?”

“Yeah, but....” You felt uncomfortable letting him do that much work. Situations aside, he was a houseguest.

“Call it rent.” You swear he winked, though it was a little too fast to be sure. “Now scoot.”

You were working on a protest when you became aware of a dripping sound behind you. You turned around and realized it was Axe. His clothes, which were already so dark that you hadn’t noticed, were soaking wet. A small puddle was forming under his chair and if you weren’t mistaken, he was shivering a bit. 

“What happened to you?” You said.

There’s a cobalt dusting on his cheekbones that you’re beginning to realize is how they blush. He mumbles something that you can’t make out past his mouthful of food, but Red bursts out laughing in between bites of his own.

“tried ta make it back to the island, huh big guy?” He has a shit-eating grin so wide you wonder how his skull can contain it. “how far’d you get, halfway?”

Axe’s scowl deepens as he swallows. “shut up.”

“Can’t believe you let the human go to all the effort of saving you just to try and drow-hey!” While he spoke, Axe stole his plate and devoured what was left of it, impossibly fast. He scoots back the chair, ignoring Red’s protests, and heads outside, brushing past you on his way out. 

“Yeah, you better get the fuck out...” Red’s shouts peter out slowly into muttering. Stretch rolls his eyes, exchanging a look with you like  _ sorry, they’re always like this _ , and shoves another plate of food towards him. Red grumbles more as he continues to eat.

You bite back a laugh of your own and follow the wet foot trails to see where Axe got off to

He’s not in the backyard. After a quick circle around the lighthouse, you finally catch sight of him on the edge of the cliff....in nothing but his sweats.

Damn it, is finding him in various states of undress just going to define your relationship?! Doing your level best not to stare, you slowly approach, clearing your throat loudly as soon as you’re within hearing distance to alert him.

“What do you want,” He says, not looking away from his clothes, which he appears to be wringing out as best he can. Explains the partial nudity then.

“I uh...have a dryer, if you want to take care of those.” You catch your eyes wandering over his back, try as you might to avoid it. Shit, his back is even more battered than his front. The hole in the back of his skull was even more visible than usual, gaping and jagged. If you squinted you thought you could see the dim glow of his eyelight, which was more than a little unnerving. 

“got anything for me to change into?”

“Well....no...” The bathrobe flashes in your mind, but somehow you imagine he won’t be amenable to that.

He snorts, flapping out his shirt a bit. “forget it then.”

“....you know it-” Your voice dies in your throat. Something Red says is rattling around in your head.  _ He doesn’t like accepting help _ . “It's really no trouble.”

“Its wet clothes, it's not-”

“No, I mean....any of it.”

....He turns around, eyeing you like he’s trying to measure how much of a threat you are. He probably is in all honesty. “I don’t-”

“Rescuing you. And...letting you guys stay, or whatever.” The words are spilling out now, and  _ stars _ but you’re unbearably awkward and this conversation was doomed from the start, but you’re in it now! No way out but through! 

“...kid, I think you’ll find I’m a lot more trouble than you realize right now.”

The line would sound stupidly corny coming from anyone else, like a bad western. Like something a John Wayne type says to the star-eyed farmgirl who just wants him to retire from the roving life. Wildly you imagine Axe in a cowboy hat, squinting heroically into the sunset. It's _ a hard life and a lonesome one- _

You abruptly pull yourself out of the cowboy fantasy. 

Coming from Axe, though, there’s a weight to it. He’s looking at you with an expression you haven’t seen on him before: earnestness. Like he’s trying to communicate something to you. Warn you maybe. 

Reassurance isn’t working, and in a way, you kind of understand that. But reframing...

“.....can I just be honest, the wood in my house is crazy old and it’s gonna warp if it gets soaked in seawater.”

A moment’s silence. 

....And he smirks. “See, now I really wanna say no.”

“I’ll kick your ass for my floorboards, don’t doubt that.” You say, shoving your hands in your pockets.

“I’d like to see you tr-” A stiff breeze blows through and he shivers. Bones clicking against each other.

“Fine,” you say, cocking an eyebrow and turning back towards the house. “Have fun freezing to death.”

“....your laundry room got a door.”

“Sure does.”

“....fine” He walks past you toward the house.

You feel like you just passed some kind of test. And you know he can’t see you but you can’t help but bite your lip to hide the smile.


End file.
